


Dangerous Games

by wyntirrose



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntirrose/pseuds/wyntirrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Onslaught and Megatron face off over a failed mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Games

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the TF_Rare_Pairings community over on LiveJournal for their Weekly challenge. The prompt was Onslaught/Megatron -- Subtle Rebellion.
> 
> Special thanks as always to eloquencelost for betaing this fic and offering advice.

Onslaught stood at stiff formal attention in the command centre staring at the wall just over Megtron's shoulder. The room was empty save for the warlord and the gestalt commander, the rest of the Combaticons having been quietly escorted from the room by Soundwave to lick their wounds and recover from another humiliating defeat at the hands of the Autobots.

Megatron leaned against the central console and glared at Onslaught, arms crossed over his chest. It was an all too common stand-off between these two. The Combaticon commander was enough of a soldier to stand there at full attention until the end of time if it was ordered of him. And Megatron knew that he would be seething at every second of this silent punishment.

He had to admit, that knowledge did give him a small thrill. Between the Combaticon's basic personality and the obedience chip, Megatron could order anything of him. There were so many humiliating, debasing things he could demand in this moment. But his own personal pleasure wasn't the issue at hand in this moment. Right now all that mattered was that the Combaticons had once again proven themselves inadequate.

“Onslaught, you and your team have failed me. Again,” Megatron said, his voice low and silky.

The tone spoke of a deep and penetrating danger that was aimed directly at Onslaught, and the Combaticon commander couldn't help but shiver deep inside as the unspoken threat washed over him. The tone, the voice, the menace; it was all so very familiar and thrilling. This was the first move in their own personal battle; a war game they had been playing since the war began.

“Lord Megatron,” he stated calmly, not waiting for permission to speak, “even though fault in this matter falls squarely on the shoulders of your Air Commander, I will take full and sole responsibility for the actions of my team. I will accept their punishment as my own. I only ask that I be allowed to deal with them myself.”

It was a calculated move, one guaranteed to irritate the warlord, but in a situation like this, Onslaught would take all the power he could get. Even if it was minor.

Megatron recognized the opening move for what it was, an attempt to create friction, to set him on edge. The game was one they had played far too many times, and yet, every match was different. Unique. Unlike Motormaster, Starscream, and Scrapper, Onslaught had the ability to learn and evolve in his rebellion. It became like a chess match, each move calculated for ultimate effect.

Megatron stood away from the console and stalked forward toward Onslaught, closing the distance between them until they were close enough to touch.

“You think you can make demands of me? You think you are in any position to dictate anything?” Megatron's voice was as cold as the deepest depths of space, but beneath it, was the purr of a predator cornering its chosen prey.

Silence descended over the room as all the various systems and monitors reached a synchronous moment of inactivity, and all that could be heard was the deadly whine of Megatron's fusion canon powering up.

“I am sorry, my Lord, but I will not back down on this. They are my troops and if they have failed as a unit then it is on my shoulders,” Onslaught replied in a surprisingly calm voice given that the Decepticon commander appeared inches away from blasting the Combaticon to oblivion.

Megatron's optics narrowed as he glared at the masked face of the other mech. For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then, without any hesitation, the warlord's hand reached up to slowly tap Onslaught's battle mask. It was a delicate, almost intimate gesture.

“Take it off. The visor too. I will not have you hiding from me,” he ordered.

The Combaticon always wore the masks and to ask him to remove them was tantamount to asking him to stand stripped bare before his commander. All of these mechs who insisted on covering their faces at all times were doing themselves a great disservice as far as Megatron was concerned. Yes they granted a certain amount of anonymity and fear on the battlefield, but it also lead to a complete inability to hide one's emotions.

Onslaught's jaw bunched up under his battle mask and he fought the urge to refuse outright. It was another step in the game of control they were always playing. He had no choice but to obey – the chip saw to that - but he could choose when and how he would comply. It was passive aggression but he would take what he could get.

He waited a measured beat before reaching up slowly to remove the masks and reveal his face, taking extra care as he placed them on a nearby console. When he returned to his place he assumed an informal At Ease stance, though it had not been ordered of him. Calculated, subtle rebellion. He would make it clear that he would do as he was told, but only because he wanted to and in his own time.

Megatron's optics flashed crimson as he caught the message. For a moment he stood there, silently staring at the Combaticon, letting him wait. It had been a long time since he'd seen Onslaught's face uncovered. Starscream had done an excellent job recreating the commander's original, handsome visage. It was a pity he insisted on hiding it. He always had that flaw.

“Onslaught, you seem to be of the mistaken impression that you and your team are somehow exempt from punishment and that you have free rein to do as you please. I would think your previous punishment would be reminder enough that you are not in any way special.” Megatron's tone was conversational with an edge.

Onslaught arched one optic ridge. “We both know that you can't afford to lose one of your combiner teams, my lord. We also know that Bruticus is the most effective gestalt you have.”

“I did not give you permission to speak,” Megatron said. “We succeeded before Bruticus and we will continue to succeed without him. His value is not enough to keep you and your team functional. However, your repeated failures are making me wonder why I am wasting resources keeping you around.”

Onslaught waited in silence, looking over Megatron's shoulder at the far wall, doing his best to keep his bare face as stony as possible. He knew the warlord was waiting for a defense, but he had also made it clear that he wanted the pecking order maintained. It was another part of the dangerous game he was playing. Completely passive but it would a step toward putting the upstart warlord in his place. Anything more overt was foolish, as Starscream was continually failing to grasp.

Megatron saw a slight twitch at the corner of Onslaught's mouth; saw the brightening of the optics of his opponent. The commander was obviously getting a strange sort of thrill out of this encounter and the warlord couldn't deny he was feeling the same. Beating an opponent with fist and gun was thrilling, but to beat him with words and will? That was an entirely different kind of power.

“Speak,” Megatron prompted.

“Lord Megatron, I will not deny that my team has its flaws. But they are still the most effective team you have aside from Starscream's trine. Add to that, I am the best field commander you have.”

Megatron couldn't help but chuckle, and he relished the look of irritation on Onslaught's face as he did. “You are unduly arrogant. That was always your chief failing. You seem to have forgotten that you and your team continue to function because I allow it. And this defiance of yours is only serving to irritate me.”

“I understand, sir,” Onslaught replied tonelessly, sounding almost bored. Megatron was dangerous when irritated, true, but he would not deactivate the Combaticons. It would be illogical to rid himself of his most powerful gestalt. Besides, Starscream screwed up far worse than Brawl and Vortex combined, and yet he still functioned.

“No. I don't think you do,” Megatron said. “I don't think you are in any way capable of understanding what this means for you and your team.”

He stepped away and moved to a console, deliberately turning his back on his subordinate, making it clear that he was no threat at all. “ _I_ allow you to function; _I_ choose to leave you intact and out of Hook's med bay because I _may_ have need of you in the future."

Onslaught's lips thinned at the dig, and he managed to limit his rising anger to a clenching of his fists thanks to a small reminder from his obedience chip.

Megatron ignored the quiet betrayal of emotions and casually examined the battle plans for tomorrow's energon raid. "In fact, Tomorrow the Stunticons and Combaticons will work in tandem to create a distraction while the rest of us harvest the Niagara Falls power station. Motormaster will be in charge of that part of the operation.”

For a moment it seemed as if Onslaught's righteous anger might be enough to let him slip his leash, but another not so subtle reminder buzzing through his processor helped him regain his control. “Motormaster is an idiot! There is no way that my team will follow him!”

A small, evil smile pulled at Megatron's lips. “That sounds like your problem, doesn't it? I suggest that you find a way to not fail me. Again. Dismissed.”

Onslaught glared at the back of Megatron's head for a moment before grabbing his masks and stalking from the room.

“Oh, and Onslaught,” Megatron called casually from the console. “Try that little game on me again and I will find more creative ways to punish you.”

Onslaught glared at Megatron but inside he felt a slight little thrill as he remembered just how creative the warlord could be.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.


End file.
